by Reid, Don
“I’m not sure. I talked to him after you left I suppose. That was around nine thirty. He said he’d be home by ten and it’s eleven now, and I was getting worried.”
“Have you tried the store?”
“Three times. No one answers, so I’m sure he’s gone. I thought maybe you might remember if he mentioned anything else he had to do.”
“No, ma’am. Do you want me to go down to the store and check?”
“Not yet. Thank you. And I’m sorry to have called you so late. You were probably already in bed.”
“That’s okay, Mrs. Sandridge. I wasn’t asleep.”
“Well, good night.”
“Good night.”
CHAPTER 20
Walter was in his hospital room, in his hospital bed, with the lights out. Perhaps tomorrow he’d be back in his own house and his own bed. He’d have his own newspaper and his own radio and he could eat whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He might not even go to sleep. He might just sit up and read and watch Jack Paar. Then he remembered. Tomorrow night was Christmas Eve. Hospital days all ran together and, although he knew what the date was, it just hadn’t hit him that Christmas was so near. But the way time flew for him anymore, Christmas was always just a few hours away. Except past Christmases. Those seemed like centuries ago and yet they flashed across his mind as vividly as the car lights from Rose Street flashed across the wall in front of him.
He looked through the open curtains at the flying snow. It could be anytime he wanted it to be. It could be now or it could be then.
Mt. Jefferson was a few years away from its first gasoline-powered ambulance. But even if the city had had one, because of the condition of the streets tonight it would have paled in comparison to the trusty old horse-drawn ambulance wagon the hospital sent to the Crown. Two hospital attendants crowded into the little dressing room. One carried a stretcher and the other one knelt down to speak to Adrienne.
“Ma’am, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can hear you.”
“Do you know where you were shot?”
“Ask Walter. I’m afraid to look.”
“I have to ask you, ma’am. I want to know if you understand what has happened.”
Adrienne repeated, in a fog, “Ask Walter.”
The attendant refused to acknowledge that Walter was in the room, much less that he was both securing the wound and holding the hand of the wounded. He continued to talk to Adrienne.
“We’re going to pick you up now and put you on a stretcher. If this hurts tell us.” He looked back at his partner with the stretcher and said, “Let’s go.”
With this they pushed Walter out of the way, rolled Adrienne on the stretcher, and carried her out of the room, down the hall and out the stage door to the waiting wagon.
A crowd had gathered in the hallway and outside on the street. Walter stood with them and watched until the horses and passengers turned the corner and were out of sight. He was unaware of how long he had been standing there until a hand clasped his shoulder and he heard his father’s voice say, “Let’s go inside, son. They need to talk to you.”
Walter followed his dad down the steps to the dressing room they had just left. Two men were waiting inside for them. He recognized one, the big beefy one with the red face, as Captain Bennington of the Mt. Jefferson police force. The other was much younger, smaller, and friendlier looking. Captain Bennington, who only a few months later would become the chief of police for a short term before leaving under some sort of scandal involving a local gambler and two waitresses, did all the talking.
“Walter, how are?” He didn’t wait for Walter to answer. “You know me don’t you, Walter? My name’s Bennington. Your old man and me belong to the same lodge. I remember when you were born. And I want to help you, and I want you to help me. Do you understand?”
Walter looked at the two police officers, his father, and the pool of Adrienne’s blood still in the middle of the floor.
“Walter, it looks like you’re the only witness we have. Everybody else has skedaddled. So why don’t you tell me exactly what happened here tonight.”
Walter swallowed hard and said, “It was an accident,” in hopes that was all he was going to have to say. But the night was young, and Captain Bennington had nowhere to go.
“How so, son?”
Walter wanted to remain loyal to Adrienne, but he didn’t know how long he could hold out. Captain Bennington cut an intimidating figure.
“That’s just it. It was an accident.”
“Who shot her?”
“Does that matter?”
“Oh, yeah, boy. That matters. Cause if you don’t tell me, I’m going to have to assume you did.”
Walter turned anxiously and looked to his father for help. He got none. E. G. Selman was on the captain’s side with this one.
“Just relax, Walter, and tell the captain what happened,” his father said. “No one’s blaming you for anything here. But you are the only one who knows what happened, and that young woman might not make it to tell her story. So it’s all on you. Do it for her sake or somebody’s going to get off scot-free.”
His dad’s words made sense. More sense than Adrienne’s. Why did she want to protect the person who had done this to her? Nicholas and Simon were both guilty in a way. He did have an obligation and it was to Adrienne, not to Nicholas or Simon, no matter what she thought.
“From what I can piece together, Simon Croft was having a love affair with Adrienne. They sneaked around a lot down here behind her husband’s back. Sometime this evening, before the performance, she and Simon must have had a spat and Simon hit her. He came to me to find a doctor and I couldn’t, so instead I patched her up with makeup to get her through the show. All this time I thought it was her husband, Nicholas, who had hit her, but after the show, he came in and Simon was already in here, and when he saw her face marked up he went into a rage. Simon admitted he had done it and that’s when Nicholas pulled out a gun and fired it. Adrienne got in the way. So it was an accident just like I said it was. Nicholas shot her but it was Simon’s fault.”
Captain Bennington looked a long time at Walter and let his words sink in before he spoke.
“The husband shot her but it was the boyfriend’s fault. You have a cockeyed way of looking at things, young man. What part did you play in all this? What were you doing down here when the shot was fired?”
“I came down to see if she was all right after the show.”
“She just let you in her dressing room? A boy like you? Just let you walk in?”
“Yes, sir. We had become friends.”
“I believe you had, Walter. I believe you had. So you and this Simon Craft, Croft, were sitting in the dressing room of another man’s wife and her husband comes in. What did he think of that? What did Nicholas think?”
“I guess it made him pretty mad. He never really said. When he came in, he noticed the bruise on her face and that made him mad. He wanted to know who did that to her.”
“Did you tell him who did it?”
“No, sir. I didn’t know at the time. Not until Simon started crying.”
“And then what did Nicholas have to say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just pulled the gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Simon and shot.”
“Is this the gun?”
“Yes, sir.”
“One shot?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now this is a real important part, Walter. I want you to think real hard and remember exactly, I mean exactly what happened next. When did these men leave the room?”
“Right after he shot her.”
“Right after? Immediately after? They just took off running?
“Well, Nicholas went first. Then Simon.”
“Neither one looked after the lady?”
“I ran to get my dad and he came in and told me to stay with her while he went for help.”
“Your dad left you in the room with two men, one of them
a possible murderer?”
“I can answer that, Captain.” E. G. interrupted the interrogation. “I put Walter in charge of the girl because I didn’t know which one of the men had fired. I picked up the pistol before I left and put it in my pocket so I knew there was no further danger. But on the side of caution I instructed two stagehands to stand at the door. I know both of those men and I knew they could handle any trouble an actor could give them with or without a pearl-handled pistol.”
“Fine, fine … but I want Walter to tell his story first.” Captain Bennington was irritated that the elder Selman had broken his rhythm. He continued to address his questions to Walter. “You were the only one in there when they left?”
“Me and Adrienne.”
“Of course. Did you help them escape?”
“Me? No, sir. I never took my hand off her wound.”
“Walter, someone in the hall heard you say,” and he went to his notes for the proper quote, “‘Get out of town before the police come. You, too, Simon.’ Then they heard you yell ‘Simon, run. Get out of here.’ Is that right, Walter?”
“I was just repeating what Adrienne told me to say.”
“I see.”
Walter’s throat was frozen. Nothing was sounding right in the retelling. Bennington leaned back with his topcoat open and his silver watch chain shining, and Walter felt as if he was beating him over the head with his own words. He could no longer think straight. He just wanted it to be over. He just wanted to go up the hill to the hospital and see if Adrienne was going to be okay.
“That’s all we’ll need you for tonight, Walter. But if those two dandies aren’t in our net by morning, we may need to talk to you again.”
Lenity General had been modernized and updated with each decade, but this was the very same building where Adrienne had been taken all those years ago. The very same hospital Walter had walked to that night to sit in the waiting room until dawn, awaiting news from the second-floor operating room. That news finally came just as his own news had come today.
Walter fell asleep. He was too tired to dream anymore.
CHAPTER 21
Buddy Briggs was used to getting phone calls in the middle of the night. It came with the job. But familiarity didn’t change the nature of the calls. He, like Lois Pence, knew that a telephone ringing in a darkened room was usually the harbinger of bad news. He knew as he picked up the phone this was something that would require him to get out of his warm bed and head into the snowy night, which only looked pretty from inside a cozy room.
“Yes?”
“Buddy?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Colleen Sandridge. I’m sorry to call you at this hour. But I’m worried about Milton. It’s eleven thirty, and he still isn’t home.”
Buddy propped himself up on his elbow and turned on the bedside lamp.
“Is he always home by this time?”
“Oh, most definitely. I just talked to him two hours ago and he said he was coming right home.”
“Where was he then?”
“At the store.”
“Has he ever stopped off at someplace to get a drink or a sandwich?”
“Never that I know of. I told him I was going to make him some tea. That was around nine thirty and he said he would be home by ten. I’ve called his assistant manager.…”
“Lois?”
“Yes, Lois Pence, and she said he was at his desk when she left.”
“And what time was that?”
“Shortly after nine. I don’t want to sound like an alarmist but this has never happened before, and I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry I woke you up but I didn’t know who else to call.”
“That’s okay. Listen, let me do a little checking and I’ll call you right back. Okay?”
“Thank you so much, Buddy.”
Buddy sat up on the edge of the bed and rubbed both hands across his eyes. He looked to see if the phone or the conversation had wakened Amanda. Her eyes were closed, but she asked, “Who was that?”
“Colleen Sandridge. She can’t find Milton.”
Amanda never said a word and never opened her eyes. Thoughts raced through her head that she couldn’t tell her husband. She was a faithful wife but she was also a loyal friend, and she hadn’t told Buddy the things Dove confided in her. Suddenly all those things, all those out-of-the-way meeting places and out-of-town day trips only she knew about, caused her imagination to explode. She might be able to solve this for Buddy. She could start by calling to see if Dove was home. But when she rolled over and looked at the clock and saw it was only twenty-five minutes until midnight, she scrapped that plan immediately. If Dove was there or if she wasn’t, what reason could she possibly give for calling? She closed her eyes again and lay there with her thoughts. The only thing she could think to do was pray, and she wasn’t sure quite how to pray about this situation.
Buddy was in the kitchen on the phone.
“Mt. Jefferson Police Department.”
“Lorrie, this is Briggs. Who’s got patrol duty downtown tonight?”
“That would be Officer Tolley.”
“Have him check on the parking lot behind Macalbee’s to see if a green ’56 Chevy is there. Two-door.”
“License number?”
“I have no idea. Just have him check and call me at home as quick as you can.”
“Will do, Lieutenant.”
Amanda walked in the kitchen as Buddy was attempting to make a pot of coffee. She had considered staying in bed but couldn’t justify inaction while hearing her husband banging around in the kitchen looking for a sugar bowl that had sat on the same shelf for the past eight years. She smiled at him and said, “Sit down. I’ll fix it.” A moment later she asked, “Where do you think he might be?”
“Beats me. Milton seldom drinks. There’s not much open anyway this time of night and especially on a night like this. I’m a little worried he might have slipped off the road somewhere. I was just trying to figure how many different ways he could have driven home. We’ll backtrack him that way and then if that doesn’t turn up anything …”
“What then?”
“I don’t know. We’ll see.”
The phone rang again. Buddy answered on the first ring.
“Lieutenant? Officer Tolley just radioed in. That car, green ’56 Chevy, is on the lot, covered with snow.”
“Thanks, Lorrie. Tell Tolley to meet me there in fifteen minutes.”
“On the lot?”
“On the lot. And, Lorrie, call Lois Pence. I don’t know the number or the address. Tell her we need the key to the store. She’s the assistant manager. Send Tolley over to her house to get it.”
“What if she won’t give him the key? You know how finicky some of these merchants are.”
“Then have Tolley bring her along with the key.” Buddy held the phone for a second before hanging it up. He looked at Amanda with a puzzled look.
“What?” she asked out of frustration.
“His car is still at the store. It hasn’t been moved. That means he’s still inside or left with someone else. Or someone is in the store with him.”
Amanda felt her breathing become irregular and was sure her color had drained. She was overcome with the feeling that if she withheld what she knew from her husband it would be as if she was being unfaithful. Where was her loyalty? To her husband, of course. She had already betrayed Dove once with that gaffe about Walter Selman. But she couldn’t let Buddy walk into such a sticky situation blind. Or maybe he already knew? Maybe he was thinking the same things.
Buddy was back in the bedroom dressing hurriedly in a pair of khakis and a crew neck sweater. He came through the kitchen putting his arm into his overcoat.
“Buddy, I have to tell you something”
“Can’t it wait, honey? I sort of have my hands full right now.”
“No, it can’t. It’s about this situation.”
“About this? About Milton?” Her words had stopped him cold.<
br />
“Yes. Oh, I don’t know how to tell you this. Promise me, Buddy, what I am about to say will never leave this room. Please promise you’ll never tell a soul.”
“What’s up, Amanda?” It was one of the few times she’d detected the policeman in his voice when addressing her. He looked her directly in the eye and held the stare until she spoke.
“I might know what’s going on with Milton. I might. I don’t know for sure. But you think he might have someone in the store with him, and if he does, I might know who it is.”
“Go on.” The policeman was gone. She was talking to Buddy again and that made it a little bit easier. But only a little bit.
“Dove Franklin and Buddy are old friends from years ago in Richmond.”
“I know that.”
“I mean real good friends, Buddy. And they see each other whenever they can. They sneak around and they swear nothing really bad happens but they still sneak around. And I’m the only one that knows about it.”
“How do you know about it?”
“Dove told me. If anyone is in that store, in that office with him tonight, I just know it’s her. I don’t want a bunch of policemen barging in there. This mess would be all over Main Street before Christmas morning. Please don’t hate me for keeping this from you. I was just trying to be a good friend to Dove. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times but I just didn’t know what to do.”
“Not your fault. I’ll just make sure I go in first. I’ll leave Tolley at the door.”
This news left Buddy numb, but with a lot of questions. Questions he didn’t have time to ask. It also left him relieved, because when Amanda began to tell him, a fear from down inside crept up in his stomach that she was going to reveal something about herself.
The phone rang and made them both jump.
“Yes.”
“Buddy, this is Colleen.”
“I was just getting ready to call you, Colleen,” Buddy lied. He had no intention of calling Colleen until he had found Milton. He looked at Amanda, who was sitting at the table with her head buried in her hands. “We’re going to check a few places out and then I’ll get back to you.”